Potato Vodka Love Songs
by RebelxMusic
Summary: Drabbles of Russia x Germany. Just because. For TwistedGoth.
1. Sixth Sense

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The End.

**Author's Note:** This little setlist of drabbles is the fault of two people. One of which is my roommate, who is responsible for subjecting me to Hetalia in the first place. The second is TwistedGoth, who this is dedicated to, for launching me headlong into RusGer. I had no OTP before _Zachem Ya_. I can't seem to say enough about how much I enjoy your writing in reviews. So this seems like the next best thing. There's not a lot of this pairing that I can find, through my obsessive searches that is. So I am compelled to make more. It does little to pacify my craving. (I _still_ can't find a good Russia to play with on tumblr.) I'm planning about ten of these little things, with three written already.

This is all your fault, TwistedGoth. Hopefully these aren't terrible.

* * *

><p><em><span>Sixth Sense<span>_

At least it was a nice enough day out to lay around outside like this. It could be worse, Ludwig supposed. It could be raining, or a terrible snowstorm that would have prevented him from going anywhere near the door in the first place; morning jog be damned. He was still warmed up from adrenaline and his running that the cold concrete actually felt good.

" _Lyudya_..."

Ludwig open his eyes, a hand coming up to block the sunlight that peeked through the morning clouds. But he needn't have bothered. There was a large shadow sparing him from the glare already. A large shadow with a customary smile." Ivan...What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on a plane to Moscow."

" Da." The Russian had his hands in his coat pockets as he continued to smile down at him. " Just like you are supposed to be in bed where I left you an hour ago. That is where you should be resting, not here."

Guilt churned in his stomach as he could no longer hold the intense violet gaze above him any longer. The older nation almost sounded amused. Almost. He looked to the chain-link fence off to the right instead. " I couldn't."

" Were you missing me already?"

Ludwig snorted. He wasn't blushing. He wasn't. " You were coming back in two days."

Ivan dropped down to a crouch next to him; glancing over him in a quick inspection. Ludwig knew he was in trouble already. He wondered if this was going to fall under the good luck of today or bad. It was only a matter of time before he found out now. " What have you done to yourself, Lyudya?"

" It's not as bad as it looks!" He didn't have to look up to know the smile was gone and replaced by a brooding look instead. The damn guilt was eating up his adrenaline rush. Now he could feel the pain again. Still, he leaned up somewhat to look down at his leg. Down to where his sweatpants were tattered around hastily bandaged, bloodied flesh and the grass shined red. Down to where Ivan was looking now. " It's just a flesh wound. There was a dog caught in the fence. It belonged to someone but it's so early, no one would know he was in trouble until later. He was going to hurt himself, I couldn't just leave him there."

The Russian's gaze switched to his and he was held captive for a few seconds. Stormy violet regarded him sharply as his words were being processed. Then Ivan grunted and looked over to the fence. " I should uproot that post and break your other leg. Maybe then you would stay put, da?"

Ludwig gave a breathless little smile and covered his eyes with his arm. Damn dog bite really was starting to become more of throbbing pain than a nagging burn. He wasn't sure whether or not Ivan was joking. Or whether or not Ivan even knew if Ivan was joking. " Please don't."

He was still focusing on the fence. " How long were you going to lay here without help?"

" Not long. It's bandaged, the bleeding stopped. I was just resting before I went home." It sounded easier than it actually ended up being. As soon as he put pressure on that leg to stand, pain lit up the whole appendage. He wasn't even standing straight before his left leg gave out.

" _Bozhe moi_..." Luckily, or not depending on how one were to look at it, Ivan caught him before he hit the ground again. Before the blond could even begin to protest this treatment, he was fully swept up in both those powerful arms." You should not be walking on this, Lyudya."

Instinctively, Ludwig had grabbed onto the older nation's shoulders. But once he realized just what had happened, he turned just as scarlet as the grass at their feet. " N-Nein! Ivan! Put me down!"

" Don't struggle, _dorogaja_..." He may as well have said nothing for as much attention Ivan paid to him. He was already walking back the way he had come with absolutely no care to how they looked: a large, intimidating looking man carrying a slightly smaller, definitely redder blond man bridal style.

Ludwig tried his best to just die of shame in the Russian's arms. " This is so undignified!"

" Would you rather I drag you instead?" Ivan was smiling again. But this time he knew. That was not a joke. That was a threat.

So he settled down and folded his arms. Not to pout, of course, just to be unhappy. " How did you even know where I was? I had not been gone that long that anyone would have worried." A thought suddenly occurred to him, and it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. " Is there a tracking device on me?"

Ivan chuckled and shifted his weight in his arms to plant a quick kiss on top of his head. " I am not really sure myself...I just had this feeling, I guess. In my head or my heart or something. I couldn't shake it. I had to come to you. Nothing else mattered at the time. I just knew you needed me."

Those words made Ludwig forget his shame. At least at the way they looked to anyone who might be peeking out their windows this morning. His face felt so hot, he knew it was probably as red as both their flags. He didn't feel bad about halfway hiding it against the older nation's shoulder as he was carried. " You missed your flight. Are you going to get in trouble with your boss or your co-workers?"

Ivan laughed outright. " It is my plane. It leaves when I say it leaves. They will adjust." And that was that. It didn't leave room for the blond to feel guilt for the Russian's appearance. " Your heart is too big, Lyudya. You have a bad habit of being attracted to dangerous things..."

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><p><span>Translations:<span>

_Lyudya - _Diminituve form of Ludwig.

_Bozhe moi_ - My goodness, oh my, oh my god, etc.

_Dorogaja_ - Something like sweetheart, honey, dear.


	2. Indulgence

**A/N:** I'm pleased my meager offerings make you happy, TwistedGoth. Your review made _me_ all happy and squealy as soon as I saw it. I was a little concern about my characterization. Ivan is hard to get a hold of and write properly sometimes. But so far so good! So I'll do my best to continue to be worthy of that praise. Here's the second song.

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><p><em><span>Indulgence<span>_

The alarm went off at 5am exactly.

Ordinarily, Ludwig might let the damn thing continue to go off for a few more minutes. Because sometimes, dammit, even he didn't want to get up that early. He wouldn't allow himself to lounge though, his penchant for guilt was too great. Not when other people, other soldiers were up early to do their duties. No, he had to get up.

Plus, the warm body he was laying atop of probably wouldn't appreciate being awakened that way.

So he smacked the OFF button with a grunt, then covered his face and groaned. The sun wasn't even up yet. Gott. He was so comfortable too. Lingering in that happy, warm, fuzzy place between sleep, awake and total contentment...

_Nein! Get up, lazy ass!_ Sleep was sneaking back up on him again. But he had things to do! The longer he laid there, the more behind he would be. First thing's first, he had to get up and tend to his dogs. They needed to be walked. He could see them in his mind's eye. All three lined up near the front door with leashes in mouth. If he took too long, they would come looking for him. Just to make sure he was awake and knew it was time to go outside. Then he needed to get ready for work, shower, shave, dress.

_Ugh. Up. _Just as he'd gotten the motivation to throw the covers off, a pair of thick arms locked around him from behind. " Ngh," said the sleepy, accented voice, "where do you think you're going?"

Ludwig glanced at the clock while resting a hand on the larger one against his stomach. If he suffered through the generic coffee in his office (it didn't even have a budget, quirky almost-brand name to it, the can just said 'coffee') he could allocate a couple of minutes for cuddling instead of coffee-making. " Dogs."

Ivan grunted and pulled him back towards the middle of the bed. " They are animals, da? Let them fend for themselves."

" Don't be silly. They can't open the door." Although he was working on that. " And they only know how to get _out_ of their leashes, not back in them."

The Russian only tightened his hold and propped his cheek against the top of his blond head. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was going to go right back to sleep that way. " Let Toris do it."

At this, Ludwig snorted. " I am not going to wake him up and ask him to do that."

Ivan said nothing in reply. The German thought he had fallen back asleep until he was released. He was about to inquire what Ivan was doing. Just because he was up didn't mean the older nation had to be too. But then his brain kicked in and he abruptly rolled over and clamped down on one of those arms that had been holding onto him earlier. " Nein! You aren't going to ask him to do that either!"

Ivan looked back at him in something like surprise. " Of course not. That would be silly!"

Ludwig relaxed. Which was a mistake.

" I'm going to _tell_ him to do it." Ivan already had his phone in his free hand. Ludwig tried to stop him, but the arm he had grabbed onto to hold back the Russian was in turn holding him back. He couldn't get around Ivan's open hand on his chest before he pressed SEND. " Too late, Lyudya."

Ludwig scowled and slumped back in bed. " Those dogs will drag him all over the place."

Ivan placed his phone back on the bedside table. There was no point in waiting for a reply. He knew what Toris' answer would be. They both could hear the bumping in the hallway of a not-awake person bumbling to the front of the house where the dogs were waiting. " He complains he gets no exercise anyway."

" Why do you do these things?" He turned his irritated glare on the older nation.

The smile Ivan gave him melted his scowl away. " Because I love you."

The German palmed his face, trying to hold onto his irritation and hide his blush. No, it wasn't worth it. What's done was done. Since he didn't have to walk the dogs and cuddle time was over, he could use that time to make his own coffee after all. Between his fingers he glanced at the clock, then grunted. " Well, I need to make coffee and take my shower before I'm late."

Just like that, an arm was slung over his chest and he was served with a Russian blockade in his own damn bed. " Nyet. You cannot be late to somewhere you are not going."

Ludwig frowned; feeling frustration build. " I have to go to work, Ivan."

" Nyet," was all the Russian said as he settled back down next to him.

That did it. " Let go of me before I hurt you!"

Ivan did the opposite. The arm over his chest drug him up against the Russian's front and squeezed hard enough to get his attention. Ludwig was about to make another plea for the sake of his work, but stopped short when Ivan purred against the side of his neck, " are you trying to excite me, Lyudya?"

" N-Nein Ivan!" He knew he was blushing now. Ivan was probably aware of it too. He could feel the older nation grinning against his throat. Oh Gott, he had to get away from that dangerous mouth! " I have work to do, verdammt! I cannot just stay in bed all day because you want me to! My boss depends on me! I have duties and responsibilities to be held accountable for!"

" -and probably not tomorrow either. Da, da, I will tell him."

_...what the hell?_

Ludwig pushed against Ivan just enough so he could see what he was doing. That was his damned phone in his hand again. Only it was lit up, indicating it was in use. And he was sure that was the voice of his boss he recognized on the phone.

" Hold on," Ivan paused, putting the phone to his shoulder to muffle it and look curiously at the blond. " I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Ludwig could not find words. So he grabbed the pillow behind his head and smacked the Russian as hard as he could with it.

Ivan took the hit with only a soft grunt, then pushed the pillow off his face. " ...da. He will return to work on Wednesday. Do not be concerned about the limping."

The German paled. _Limping...? Oh Gott, what did __**that**__ mean? _

" He will be fine." Ivan was looking at him now as he spoke; stormy violet making promises his boss need not be privy to. " Just sore."

As soon as the phone clicked shut, Ludwig knew he was screwed.


	3. Shiver

**A/N:** And now for something completely different. (i.e. I'm cold, I'm cranky, and this makes me feel better.)

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><p><em><span>Shiver<span>_

It was not cold out.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was not cold.

Therefore, he did not need a jacket.

Because he certainly was not shivering.

Italy was smaller, and handled the cold even worse than he did.

So when the smaller nation 'derped' (America's wording, not his) and left his coat...somewhere, of course he thought nothing of surrendering his own to prevent Italy from freezing. (And whining. And crying. And talkingtalkingtalking. Anything to shut him up.)

He was fine anyway.

Plus, it gave him a cheap thrill to see Romano positively fume over his brother in a German jacket.

Seriously though, it wasn't even that cold outside.

America was only wearing his bomber jacket because it was 'badass' (America's wording, not his.)

And just look at Russia! He was laughing at something the American said and taking his massive, fur-lined, probably warm coat off.

...Stupid Russian.

This was probably like summer weather to him.

But he wasn't bitter.

That was too close to bitter cold.

And Ludwig Beilschmidt was not cold.

He certainly was not shivering.

In fact, he was so busy not-shivering, that he almost got knocked into by a fuming America;ranting about one thing or another. Germany dodged to the side and automatically went to apologize when weight suddenly dropped onto his shoulders; courtesy of Russia's large hands.

" Do not apologize to him, Lyudya," those hands gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze, then slid off as he walked on. " You almost ran over my German friend, America. I see you have as much in the way of manners as you do oil. Which is to say, none at all, da?"

America's outrage could be heard three blocks over. Even through the winter weather.

But Ludwig Beilschmidt didn't mind it.

Because he was not cold.

He certainly was not shivering.

The massive, fur-lined, probably warm coat was definitely warm though.


	4. Rift

**A/N:** I just got super inspired last night, and this all came out in one sitting. It happened right after reading the new chapter of **Ne Ver', Ne Boisya**. So I'm blaming this on you, TwistedGoth. If you haven't read it, go read _everything_ Hetalia she's done. Seriously. Do it. (Or I'm getting the pipe.) I'll try and catch any errors. But I hope you find some beauty in this raw diamond. **  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>" The road gets rough, you say things you should not say.<em>

_ I never meant to treat my baby that way._

_ I apologize..."_

_ Anita Baker, "I Apologize."_

* * *

><p><em><span>Rift<span>_

Every couple has arguments.

Every healthy couple has arguments.

Well, if that was healthy, then there really was nothing to worry about, was there?

Except what they had was not an argument. It was a _fight._

Ludwig stubbornly shook his head to pull it away from things he did not want to think about while he was at work. He needed to get through all his paperwork. Even if all of it was just pretense that only required his signature. He still needed to know what it said in case he was asked. That meant getting past more than the first two sentences he had been reading for the last thirty minutes.

He couldn't focus. But that was no excuse to him. Work still had to get done.

If it took longer than usual, well, so much the better.

That left him with less time to let his mind wander where he did not want it to be.

Which was 1,800 some odd miles to the East.

Just thinking about the distance made his stomach twist, shifting around the ice he had been carrying there since the fight. It never melted, even when he did other things. When he worked out, when he cleaned, when he cooked or showered. It just shifted, reminding him that it was there and it was cold and he could never warm up as long as it was there.

Ludwig had tried to force normalcy. He'd changed the sheets on his bed. He'd shoved all the vodka he had possession of at his brother (who was too happy to get rid of it.) Any all reminders of _that country_ had disappeared by the time he'd gotten home from work the day after the fight. (Also something his brother was too happy to do for him.)

He'd checked at least to make sure Gilbert hadn't thrown them away. He didn't want to see them right now, but he didn't want them destroyed. That meant that...

Ludwig shivered and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. _Nein. Focus. You're at work, verdammt. Read the paperwork. Sign the line. You have to get as much work done as you can today since it's about to be the weekend and Ivan won't let you–... _

Except Ivan wasn't coming this weekend.

And he was not going there.

So why was this work so important again?

Ludwig winced when the ice rolled in his stomach, resting a hand over it as if that would make the cold sensation go away.

What had they even been fighting about?

"_ No! It's not 'just' anything! It's you always doing what you want to do and to Hell with whatever anyone else wants! You only listen when you want to! Otherwise the only thing that matters is what Ivan wants! Ivan, Ivan, __**Ivan**__!" _

Oh yeah.

Anger flared in his chest, and suddenly the cold in his stomach was less noticeable.

* * *

><p>It was cold in Russia.<p>

And bears shit in the woods.

But it was colder than it should have been to Ivan Braginski. In his house, his office, his bedroom. It was too damn cold.

It made him irritable and his smile was looking more like a sneer these days.

He didn't know what to do with himself, really.

The Baltic states stayed well out of his way. Even Nataliya was picking her battles more carefully these days. In the beginning she had been thrilled. Her big brother was potentially done with the troublesome German forever now. She'd immediately set to work trying to make him feel better about it.

For all the good it did.

She should have known nothing was working when he grumpily agreed to be dragged wherever she wanted to take him. She should have been elated. But instead she was getting, to be frank, pissed off.

The slightest thing could incur his wrath, it was true. Every request that crossed his desk was met with a vicious 'nyet' and a threat should the request be submitted again. Instead of cowering or placating her 'whims' he just shot holes in everything with his negativity until even _she_ was hard pressed not to strangle him. His rage wasn't the worst part though.

Whenever he would see someone walking their dog, he would stop whatever he was doing just to watch them. It didn't matter how angry he was at the time, or whatever he was doing. It would all stop, just to watch that person pass. Sometimes he would wince, or tense up. Then they might not see him for the rest of the day.

Ivan had only agreed to go somewhere with her in the first place to get out of the house. A house that didn't have Ludwig in it. Then once he was out of the house, bozhe moi, he couldn't stand to not be in it. Every blond head and pair of blue eyes had him distracted.

He couldn't eat. Everything either reminded him of the German, or his cooking. Only his big sister's cooking was safe. Working was easy. Until his boss nearly banned him from the office for a couple days for working too hard and terrorizing his staff. (Although, in his defense, that aide had thrown himself into the foyer fountain when he asked where Ivan's handsome German companion was.) Sleeping was out of the question after the first two days. He just couldn't get comfortable. His bed was too big. It was too cold without a smaller body pressed up against him for warmth.

God, how he missed that.

Now he had the heat on to an almost unbearable level just so he didn't notice.

Ivan rolled over to face away from his bathroom. His mind kept tormenting him with the image of Ludwig walking through it and to his bed. The way he would climb in and curl up near him to get comfortable. A convenient occurrence, since Ivan made sure his house was colder than usual whenever the German would visit. Ludwig would only allow himself to shiver so much before seeking him out.

...was it cold in Germany right now?

_" You make it sound like I don't care! That's not true! Everything I do is for you! You're so stubborn and stuck in your own head, you can't even take care of yourself most of the time! You're just too full of your own stupid pride to see it!" _

Ivan snorted. Who cared if it was cold? Let his damn pride keep him warm.

* * *

><p>Ludwig had never been that good at sleeping to begin with.<p>

It sort of worked in his favor this time though, since it lent him more time to get work done at night that he couldn't get through in the day.

He'd just pack his bed full of his dogs to remain comfy and work until he couldn't sit up straight anymore. He was technically working longer hours this way, but his work pile never seemed to shrink. He just kept reading the same things, never comprehending them. Never caring past the point of appearance.

But it was all he could do since Gilbert threatened to put him in a sleeper hold if he found him cleaning at four in the morning again.

* * *

><p><em>Gilbert had been livid when he entered the living room. Both of them looked up at him, looking somewhat guilty. He was about to just yell at them for yelling, but then he saw the hole in the wall. The <em>_hole in the wall a little too close to where his brother had been. _

_ He didn't know who did it, but he didn't need to know._

_ Immediately, he came between the two and shoved Ludwig towards his bedroom. Any protests he silenced with a fierce glare and pointed down the hall. " You go to your room!" Then he turned on Ivan, with more courage and rage he thought himself capable of without being violent. Or maybe Ivan was just that tired from fighting, allowing himself to be pushed out of the front door. " And you tell your mom you can't play over here no more!" _

* * *

><p>Ivan was miserable.<p>

Not even the burn of vodka in his stomach cured him.

He was tired of being angry.

Tired of his cold bed.

Tired of being alone.

Hell, he was just _tired_.

This was the third day of his mandatory vacation. Ivan sat on his couch, flipping channels a mile a minute with no care to what was on them. It was just until he thought of something else to do to waste time so he could get back to work. Something else to keep him from thinking about...

What was the point?

He wanted Ludwig.

As if summoned up by thought alone, Ivan caught a glimpse of that wonderful, beautiful, amazing face through his channel searching. It was some press conference of some kind. Ludwig's boss talking about...hell, he didn't care. He didn't even have the sound on. The man could be declaring war on his country and he wouldn't have noticed. His attention was locked on to the stoic blond off to the side.

_Oh Lyudya..._

Ludwig didn't look bad. If you didn't know him, he was an impeccable looking soldier, standing at attention, fully alert and the pride of Germany. Not a single hair out of place under that hat. His uniform pressed and creased, no doubt his shoes shined too.

But Ivan did know him.

Ludwig's back was too stiff. His stance too rigid. His eyes were too alert, occasionally looking this way and that. Every once and a while he would shift, however slightly. And it took him a second to start clapping after everyone else did.

Ludwig was just as tired as he was.

Probably even more so since he was still working.

Ivan palmed his face and sat back against the couch.

This was ridiculous.

Hadn't they gotten together in the first place because they didn't want to be miserable?

So why were they punishing themselves like this?

Lowering his hand slightly, Ivan looked at the screen again. Ludwig was walking off stage now, pulling his hat down over his eyes as he did so. Every step was like so much work, even though he bore it like the soldier he was.

Maybe it was his own sleep deprivation. Maybe it was fate that he look up right when he did to see that conference. Maybe he was subconsciously driving himself to this all along. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe it just didn't matter anymore.

He had a plane to catch.

* * *

><p>Ludwig was getting the hang of this sleep business again.<p>

He found that his old record still held. He could function just fine on four hours and thirty minutes of sleep every night.

He _looked_ like shit (Gilbert's wording, not his), but that's what make-up and second winds were for.

His brother had left him that evening to go do the grocery shopping. That was supposed to be Ludwig's job. He had tried to do it, but for some reason, he couldn't remember the things Gilbert kept telling him he wanted. Ludwig started to tell him to just write it all down and he'd get it. But his big brother just shoved him onto the couch and said he'd do it himself.

So there he stayed, dogs under him as he didn't-sleep and waited for Gilbert to come home.

Ludwig didn't even know he'd fallen asleep until his dogs started moving and barking. He awoke with a start, his heart pounding hard in his chest, eyes burning, stomach full of nausea. Rubbing the heel of his palm into an eye did nothing but make the burning worse, so he stopped. Someone was knocking at the door anyway. That must mean Gilbert got a ton of groceries and needed help opening the door.

So, being the good little brother he was, Ludwig dragged himself up and over to the door to open it.

Gilbert was not on the other side of the door with his arms full of bags and mouth full of curses.

There was only a Russian.

A Russian with his head down and a sunflower in his hand; extended forward towards the blond.

Ludwig rubbed his burning eyes and blinked. Because Gott, if this was a dream or hallucination he was going to burst into tears.

Nope. Still there.

Ivan lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak.

Ludwig didn't want to hear it, didn't want to waste anymore time.

He practically flung himself into the Russian's arms and clutched at him so tightly. " I'm sorry," he buried his face in his shoulder, " I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Ivan locked his arms around him just as fiercely. "Shh, I know. I am sorry too." One of his hands, the one that held the sunflower, raised to stroke his hair in calming. " We made quite a mess, didn't we?"

Ludwig let out a breathless little laugh. " Ja..." There was so much he wanted to say right now. So much time they had to make up for. But there was something they had to do before all that. Something else came first. " Would you...like to come in and sleep with me?"

" _Absolyutno_." Ivan released him, kneeling to retrieve the fallen sunflower and give it to him. Ludwig took it and rewarded him with the smile he had been missing for days. That same hand smoothed back some of his tousled blond hair, then continued to trail down his cheek. " In every sense of the word, da?"

Red dusted that cheek almost immediately as the German shyly looked away. However, the smile stayed. He shouldn't have been surprised (really, he should have expected this sort of thing), but when he was unceremoniously thrown over Ivan's shoulder, Ludwig gave a startled yelp. " _Vanya_!"

" Relax, I am removing my boots before I come in." And he was too. " No more dirty snow on your clean floors, da?"

Ludwig huffed and adjusted himself so the sunflower stayed safe. He didn't miss being manhandled, verdammt. He _didn't_. " I could just clean it up later."

" You could, but you're not going to." Ivan walked right in and made a beeline to the blond's bedroom. " You're not going to have that kind of energy for a long time..."

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><p><strong><span>Translations:<span>**

_Absolyutno_ - Absolutely.

_Vanya_ - Diminutive form of Ivan.


	5. 3AM

__**Author's Note:** This one was more a labor of love than the others. Had to be re-written at least three times before I decided anyone could see it. Now I'm in such a good mood for the day, I decided to just go for it. We'll see how this works out.

* * *

><p><em><span>3AM<span>_

It wasn't the howling winter wind beating against the window that woke him. Or even the thick silence layered across the whole house. It wasn't the stillness or even a nightmare. It was a deep seated alarm somewhere inside him that let him know something was not right.

Ludwig opened his eyes, otherwise remaining completely still. Nothing but darkness greeted him. And it was cold, so very cold. His clothing was absolutely useless for it. Nothing moved, nothing made noise, there wasn't a single sign of life before him. Nothing but the wind.

Oh Gott.

Oh **Gott.**

Was he still in Russia?

The cold, that wind, the quiet, the stillness that meant **death**. Oh _Gott_, why didn't his boss listen? They shouldn't be here! They should never have come here! This was no place for Germans! This wasn't _lebensraum_! They couldn't live here! No one could _live_ here! Not even the Russians used all of Russia! This was a terrible mistake!

The wind raged particularly hard against the window at his back and Ludwig couldn't stop himself from jumping. Germans were not designed for this kind of weather. There was nothing out there but bodies and red snow and frozen soldiers in their vehicles and oh Gott, oh Gott, everyone was dying out there!

How many men had he lost already? How many soldiers had bid him good night and never woken up again?

Ludwig was trying to keep himself together. He really was. But it was so hard. It was so cold and getting colder. This safe house wasn't going to be safe much longer. And he was in enemy territory and everything looked the same when it snowed this hard and where was his company and where was his gun?

Oh Gott, if he lost _that_, he might just come apart.

Ludwig searched himself as frantic as he dared. If he made too much noise, they might hear. Damnable, indomitable frost-proof Russians were probably waiting for him to die in here. No gun. What was he doing that he lost it? Had he been under attack before? Argh, he had to find it! He started to search his bed. He had to find that damn gun, he had to–

His hand came down upon something both not his bed and not his gun. It was flesh.

It was cold flesh.

There was a soldier in his bed with him, who had likely crawled in trying to get warm. Thinking that Germany, his country, his nation, his Fatherland would protect him. And he froze to death anyway.

It was too much. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want his men, his people dying this way. He didn't want to die this way. Terror gripped his insides and filled him where sense was supposed to be. He couldn't think around his heart beating so hard it might escape his chest. His senses refused to cooperate. He had to move, they said. If he stayed where he was, he was going to die. Everything was just screaming at him to get out of there, get out now!

Ludwig threw himself out of his bed and hit the ground hard. He didn't even know he had been screaming until he'd knocked the wind out of himself with his landing and the noise stopped.

Only now he couldn't get it back. The blond clutched at his chest as he gasped and writhed like a fish out of water. For a second, he thought he'd injured himself seriously. Maybe he'd impaled himself when he landed, or damaged his lungs in a previous attack. They were against him now; refusing to work with his body.

On some level, he was aware of a circle of light passing over him, yelling in Russian and dogs barking. The light centered on his face, more Russian, getting closer this time. And in a hurry.

If he could breathe properly, he would be laughing right now.

He was in Russia. His men were dead. He had no gun. The enemy was coming for him. It didn't matter what happened now, whether they found him, shot him, captured him _then _shot him, or captured him, sent him off to the gulag _then _shot him, or if they never found him at all and he just froze.

He had been terrified of freezing to death in the beginning, but he was so worked up now that he was going to suffocate himself before any of that stuff had a chance to happen.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was going to die here. In a panicked mess before his enemies, in Russia, where no one would find him and no one would care.

And there was nothing he could do about it but keep killing himself.

He could already feel death's icy fingers on his arms, his legs, his face–

" _Breathe._"

–his hair?

"_ Breathe Ludwig._"

But he couldn't. Hell, now he didn't want to. And for what purpose? Just to be a war prize? His brother would die of shame right behind him.

" _Look at me!_"

That was an order barked to him in German. Even though he was dying, he was still a soldier.

Ludwig obeyed.

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was violet and _Gott im Himmel_, anyone but _him_!

In his panicked mind, death was favorable to facing up to the punishment _he_ would give out. He couldn't breathe, his arms and legs were fuzzy and felt almost detached from him, but he could still fight. Still struggle. His brother's voice was in his head. Did that mean he was close to the end? _If you must be taken, you take as many of your enemy with you as you can. You give them Hell, so they never, __**ever**__ forget they tried to take a German. And never, __**ever**__ again will they want to. _ For him, violence is as natural as breathing. Since he cannot do one, he shall do the other.

" _Stop struggling before I break your arms!_"

Like Hell. He didn't have to win. (Could he ever hope to against Russia?) He flailed without aiming, just making his own capture as difficult as possible. He just had to last long enough to black out. His struggling was put to an abrupt end when his arms and legs were pinned down though.

" _Listen to me!" He _sat over him now. Conquering and cold and violet.

It was over.

It was all over.

_"_ _You are __**not**__ my enemy._"

...he wasn't?

" _This is not Stalingrad._"

Then where the hell was he? And why couldn't he remember now how to–

" Breathe Lyudya. You are going to pass out if you don't breathe." Cold hands on his face kept his focus locked on violet. " Watch me."

Inhale.

Exhale.

Was it really that easy?

" Inhale."

He did.

" Exhale."

He did that too.

" Da. Very good. Again."

...guess it really was that easy. He could do that. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He could breathe. And more importantly, he could think. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see shapes. The circle of light from earlier turned out to be a flashlight placed upright on the floor near him and the Russian in front of him–

–this Russian that was not his enemy. Not KGB. Not Allied Forces.

Just Ivan.

Ivan, whose hands were warmer now on his face. " Are you all right?"

He should have automatically answered 'ja'. But what came out instead was, "why is it dark?"

" Because it is three o'clock in the morning and the power is out."

"Why is the power out?" His questions were coming faster now. His anxiety was lingering just under the surface. He was waiting for an answer he didn't want to hear. The one that started and ended with bomber planes and his world falling apart.

But the Russian before him only continued to hold his gaze with a clearly amused smile on his face. " Because you are in Moscow, _dorogaja_. In December. In 2011. And even now, the generators here," he looked out the window, then made a face of distaste, "are...well, shit. Sometimes that happens. My other house is better."

Ludwig supposed that made sense. The knot in his stomach was slowly uncurling. But he still kept an ear tuned for the sound of tanks or raid sirens or that terrible, terrible whistling sound. And he had other questions... " And the dogs and the yelling?"

" The dogs are yours. And the yelling–" As if on queue, noises exploded from outside the bedroom door. Ludwig jumped, but Ivan's heavy hands on his shoulders kept him in his skin for now. "–is mine. Be still. I will deal with them."

As soon as Ivan opened his door, just a crack, he was bombarded with barking and yelling and questions and flashlights in his face and had it been any other time (other than 3am in the morning) he might have welcomed all the noise and liveliness.

" Lyudya," Ivan turned his head slightly from the chaos to address him. "Cover your ears for me, da?"

But as it was...

" _ZATKNIS_!"

All the noise stopped. Ludwig blinked, then lowered his hands experimentally.

" You three," there was the sharp sound of fingers snapping. " _Aus_."

The sound of dog feet on tile let him know the dogs were gone. Even though he couldn't see them, hadn't seen them in the first place, and they were his dogs, their leaving let him relax a bit.

Ivan continued. " And you three, back to your rooms."

" But I can't sleep now!" That wasn't a Russian either. That was the little one, Raives. " All the noise woke me up for good!" Still letting his mouth fire off words before he checked to see if they were loaded.

Silence fell over everything. And Ludwig had to remind himself how to breathe again. This was not Stalingrad. He was not in enemy territory. " ...all right," Ivan sounded like he was smiling still. That was a good thing. " Since you're so wide awake, you _and Toris_ can go chip ice off the generator. Don't stop until it comes back on, or I'm locking you out."

Was that trembling he heard out there? Ludwig didn't even know that made a noise. Along with two quaky 'yes sirs', then two pairs of feet shuffled down the hall in the same direction of the dogs.

Ludwig thought that now surely Ivan was going to close the door and come back. But then there was this hissing sound. That was strange. No bombs hissed. There were no snakes in Moscow, were there? Surely not in Ivan's house. All of a sudden, the older nation had moved in the door frame. He'd stuck his hand out as if to catch something aimed directly at his face.

" Not _now_, Nataliya. _Idi spat_."

The hissing noise had been muffled by his hand, then receded until a door shut. Ivan lingered for a second, then closed his own.

Ivan looked like a grumpy winter cloud as he stalked back to bed. But when violet fell upon him again, the storm passed on. " It's warmer up here, you know."

" Is the body gone?" Right after he said it, he felt stupid and wished he hadn't. But he had to know. He had to make sure there wasn't a dead soldier in that bed or he could never get back in it.

Ivan smiled and pulled all the covers off so he could see. " The only body up here is mine, Lyudya. And I am still in it. But I am very lonely." Now a hand was extended down to him. " Would you like to sit with me?"

Ludwig stared at the bed a while longer. He didn't expect a body to suddenly appear. But still. It had been there. It had been right there. In his mind's eye, he could still see the unmoving lump next to him. The cold skin under his hand.

The power flickered on with a mechanical whirl.

Ludwig blinked.

This was not a war zone.

This was not Stalingrad.

There was no body in the bed. Only Ivan.

Ivan who was not his enemy.

Ivan who was still holding his hand out.

Ivan who pulled him up onto the bed and soothed his frazzled nerves with incredibly embarrassing tales of his growing up the middle male child in a house of girls.

" Did I ever tell you the time my big sister made me sit in the toilet?"

" Don't you mean 'on' the toilet?"

" Nyet. I mean '_in'_. I kept leaving the seats up all the time, so she pushed me in one day and kept pushing me back down when I tried to get up."

" Why'd you do that?"

" Because I was twelve and it made her mad. Why else?"

* * *

><p><strong><span>Translations:<span>**

_Lebensraum - _Habitat, or 'living space' in German. Damn near the whole point of Operation Barbossa in WWII. The Nazis hoped to turn large areas of Soviet territory into German settlement areas.

_Gott im Himmel - _God in Heaven.

_Zatknis_ - Simply put, it means 'shut up' in Russian. ;)

_Aus - _Out.

__Idi spat_ - _'Go to sleep' in Russian._  
><em>


	6. Vulnerability

**Author's Note:** I should have an excuse for this delay. But I don't. Not one you haven't heard before.

I'll make it up to you.

* * *

><p>Sometimes workaholics were funny.<p>

Nothing short of a Russian blockade would stop Ludwig from when he knew he had work to do.

But every once and a great while, he could enjoy sleeping in. He could lay back and relax, content with what he has done. He was capable of being just as lazy as everyone else on their day off. Especially if he just flew in the night before from his country to spend the weekend with his Russian boyfriend.

_It just figures..._Ivan thought irritably as he shut down his alarm clock before it woke the German, _he would be all nice and cuddly when he doesn't have to get up and do anything, and I do. _It was probably cosmic revenge for all the times he purposely prevented Ludwig from going to work just because he didn't want him to.

Now Ivan was exceptionally sneaky when he wanted to be; size be damned. He took particular pride in startling Arthur and Alfred at world conferences. One or both would curse him and threaten to put a bell on him.

A bell.

Honestly.

As if it were _his _fault they just didn't pay attention to their surroundings.

Unfortunately, no matter how stealthy he thought he was being this morning, Ludwig proved himself to be an exception once again. The only Incarnate that wasn't afraid of him also happened to be the only one that could catch him when he was trying to be quiet.

And God knows how hard it was to make himself disentangle from the smaller, cuddly German body when the other was sleeping. Now he was awake and the arms around his one were twice as determined.

" Lyubov, I have to get up."

Ludwig didn't even open his eyes. " ...Warum?"

" I have things I must do today." It wasn't cute if he didn't look at him. Just don't look at him.

" You were doing one of them until you started moving around so much."

Ivan wanted to be irritated. After all, he was Russia. He didn't answer to _anyone_. If he wanted to get up out of bed, then that's what he would do. But then he turned his head to say so. And in doing that, he looked. All that budding annoyance dissolved at the sight of Ludwig with his hair adorably ruffled and pillowing his head on his captured arm. _Chert._ " Unfortunately, I do. I am not happy about them either, believe me."

Ludwig said nothing else. The older nation took this to mean that was all he needed to gain his freedom. The blond just needed to be reassured he wasn't leaving just to be leaving. And it certainly wasn't because he wanted to.

That's what Ivan thought.

Until powerful legs locked around his middle. "_ Verboten_."

For a moment, all the Russian could do was blink and look down. Yes. This was really a situation he was in. _Ludwig_ was trying to keep him from working. He might have thought he was dreaming if his dreams were ever anywhere near that good. " ...Chto. I am serious."

" So am I."

Ivan tested the hold he was in and squirmed around. Arms went around him next for all the trouble and good it did him.

" Lyubov," he sighed and sat still, " I have to get up and do things."

" _Verboten._"

Ivan grunted and palmed his chin. Had it been anyone else, absolutely anyone else in the wide world, this wouldn't even be an issue. He would have gotten outright annoyed. Both at their actions, and the consequences of such actions that would lead to blood spatter all over his bed.

But since this was Ludwig, his usually reserved, painfully shy lover, he couldn't hold onto anything but adoration. It wasn't as if he were uncomfortable either. Being between Ludwig's legs was always a pleasant experience. Even if the German was using a modified submission hold to keep him in bed so they could go back to sleep. If that wasn't endearing, he didn't know what was.

Ivan turned sightly in the hold to look at him. One of his hands slid free to brace on the blond's stomach. " Lyudya...if I do not get these things done–"

Suddenly, there was a squeak.

A squeak, and Ludwig wiggled.

Ivan paused. " What was that?"

" Was?"

" That squeak." Ivan shifted, and brushed Ludwig's stomach a second time.

A second time there was a squeak and Ludwig completely released him in favor of wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively.

_Oh...how very interesting...~_ The smile on Ivan's face started slow, and sharpened to a full grin. " Lyubov? Are you ticklish?"

" Nein."

" Then let me touch your stomach, da?"

" **Nein**."

" Why?" Now Ivan was scooting closer, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

Ludwig scooted back to maintain their distance, without removing his arms from his middle. " Because you touch me enough as it is. You don't need to touch my stomach. Stay away."

" But I thought you were cold?"

" I have blankets."

" Nonsense," he started to reach for the younger nation. " You should just let me touch your stomach."

Ludwig batted that hand away. " Verdammt nein!"

" Then you admit you are ticklish there." Grinning smugly, Ivan folded his arms over his chest.

" Nein!" The blond looked absolutely annoyed by the very notion. " I am not. I never have been."

" Then move your arms."

" I will do no such thing. Weren't you leaving? Don't you have something to do that isn't harassing me?"

" Harassing you is _always _more important, da? And your phone is ringing."

` Ludwig automatically looked on his night stand; expecting to see his cell phone lit up. It was not. What he saw instead was a quiet phone and the reflection of Ivan pouncing on him in the mirror.

" Auch! Ivan! Get off!"

Russian hands got around his arms to attack his stomach.

Laughter filled the whole bedroom.

" Bozhe moi, you are _very_ ticklish there, aren't you?"

" Nein!" Ludwig protested around his laughter, trying to throw back off or get away from the older nation. " Stop touching me there!"

" Nyet," was Ivan's cheerful response as he continued to dig his fingers in.

The German yelped and switched tactics, trying to push him off with one arm and protect his stomach with the other. " Bastard! I'm going to kill you, I swear!"

" Well now I really don't have any incentive to let you up, do I?. It's far safer for me to keep doing this!" Ivan continued to torment him until Ludwig was breathless and panting. Then he leaned over his exhausted lover with that smug smile again. " What was that about not being ticklish there?"

" Go to hell," he panted, trying to catch his breath. He would have liked to punch that smile right off his face if he had the energy. " How did that happen? That's never happened before when anyone touched my stomach."

" ...and who else has touched your stomach?"

Ludwig didn't catch the dark tone of that question and answered innocently. " Doctors, nurses. Feliciano used to try and tickle me. All it did was irritate me because he kept trying when I would never laugh. I had to threaten to break his hands off at the wrist, thus severely impeding his pasta making ability, to get him to stop."

Ivan grunted and muttered under his breath. Something that sounded suspiciously like 'I might have known.' But before the German could ask him to repeat himself, he distracted him by trailing his fingers down his arm; dangerously close to his stomach. " So your body is more vulnerable to me than to anyone else?"

" That's terrible phrasing, Ivan."

" Is true though, da?" As if to prove his point, Ivan went for his stomach again.

But this time Ludwig was ready. He caught those menacing hands and shoved them away firmly. " **Nein**. Hands to yourself!"

Ivan allowed himself to be held at bay. " You'll have to forgive me, lyubov. I just like to hear you laugh. You don't smile enough. Always so serious. I don't think you know how beautiful you are." He kept his arms loose and non-threatening as he leaned down to plant a kiss on the blond's forehead. " And I am very selfish. If I can make you smile and laugh just for me, how am I supposed to resist?"

Ludwig averted his eyes as red took over his face. " You...You make too much of something so simple."

" Nyet." The Russian broke his hold easily, only to wrap his arms around his middle securely. Too quick to be intercepted this time. But he waited until Ludwig realized he wasn't in danger and relaxed against him before speaking again. " There is nothing simple about you."

" As you say, Ivan."

" Da. I _do _say." Just that fast, the German was rolled onto his back under Ivan. " And I don't intend to stop until you do too."

Ludwig only had time to let out a confused 'was' before he was under attack all over again. " Gott verdammt! Th-That's not fair!"

" Welcome to Russia. Nothing ever is."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Translations:<span>**

_Warum_ - German. Why.

_Lyubov_ - Russian. Term of endearment.

_Verdammt_ - German. Dammit.

_Chert_ - Russian. Also meaning dammit.

_Verboten_ - German. Forbidden. Prohibited. Not allowed, essentially.


	7. Perfect

**Author's**** Note:** Told you.

* * *

><p>The other nations talked like he wasn't aware.<p>

Like he didn't know these things himself.

That something about Ivan was _not quite right_.

Well, Ludwig wasn't stupid.

He knew Ivan wasn't perfect.

He wouldn't do laundry until he ran out of clothes. He just _wouldn't_. Damn the dirty clothes hamper and however many clothes it was buried under. No matter how many times Ludwig pointed it out to him, Ivan would miss it every single time he threw his clothes to it. Ludwig suspected he did it now just to irritate him.

There was no point in even looking up the weather anymore. You could tell the temperature outside by whatever Ivan tracked into the house. Muddy Russian footprints meant it was warm. Snowy ones meant, conversely, that it was cold.

Sometimes Ivan was a downright brat. When he wanted something, he wanted it his way and he wanted it right then. He didn't want useless things. He wanted the best and God help whoever was in his way. Normally such behavior was an immediate turn-off for Ludwig. But Ivan, through stumbling grace or gifted perception, always managed to remind him that his bratty tenacity was exactly how they ended up together in the first place.

Yeah, Ludwig knew Ivan wasn't perfect.

But he loved him anyway.

He admitted, sometimes Ivan did things, said things that were...well, to be perfectly honest, _off_.

Things will happen, and Ivan's reactions don't quite match up to the type of reaction a person is supposed to have.

Like that time they were eating at a restaurant, and Ludwig had to send his steak back twice because it was bloody. Ivan had patiently refrained from eating, instead entertaining himself with groping him under the table to pass the time.

" That's the third time. I think the chef's doing it on purpose by now..." Ludwig huffed.

Ivan kept on smiling and kept trailing his hand up the blond's thigh under the table; much to his indignation. " Maybe we should just skip right to dessert."

" Nein!" As if Ludwig didn't have enough to deal with (fighting off a Russian octopus under the table), what looked like the head chef of the kitchen was striding purposely towards their table with his familiar plate in hand.

That plate was then dropped on the table in front of them both, with enough force to shake the whole thing. And then he started to _yell_.

Well.

Ludwig was prepared to let the man say his piece, whatever that was going to be. Then he would reply and voice his very valid complaint in a polite manner. Ludwig believed that overreacting would only complicate the situation.

Ivan held no such belief.

Before he knew what was happening, the chef was face down on the table with the Russian's hand holding him down by the back of the neck." As passionate as your display is, moya lyubov did not order a monologue for dinner. He ordered steak, medium-rare, if memory serves..."

Ludwig was rooted to his chair; unable to move for shock and anxiety. The Russian was already causing a scene. Getting upset and showing the panic he felt wouldn't budge him from what he now identified as a 'prey'. " Iv...Ivan...that's not necessary. We can just go somewhere else."

" Nonsense~!" The hand that wasn't holding the chef down picked up the sizable steak knife left behind on the table. He twirled that knife, then brought it down dangerously close to the chef's face; specifically his eye. Ludwig could only assume the Russian he was speaking so fast and so frantically was a prayer. Or pleading. Or both. " Perhaps you have forgotten how to tell when a steak is not ready yet, da? If you _stab _it–" and Ivan did stab, right into the table. The blade was buried at least an inch in the wood right next to the man's head. " –and it _bleeds_, then it is not ready."

" Sir, please, I'm–"

" –interrupting, let's stop that now." The knife was pulled out from the table and leveled at the man's eye once again. " Now then, shall I explain how to _cut _the meat next?"

Prayers had never been enough to save anyone from Russian cruelty before.

Ludwig didn't even think. He just caught himself standing up, leaning over the table to rest his hand over the one holding the chef down. " Ivan...bitte..."

But violet was fixated on the prey before it. " Nyet."

" _Vanya_." That at least broke his stare. Brutality churning behind purple greeted him. Yet he did not flinch, did not waver in the face of it. " If you do that now, he can't bring us our free dessert."

The Russian continued to stare at him for what would have been an uncomfortable amount of time, and intensity to anyone else. But Ludwig was patient. And eventually, the clouds parted in that violet sky; leaving Ivan smiling good-naturedly. " Da. You are right, lyubov. Thank you for reminding me."

Both Ludwig and the chef breathed sighs of relief when Ivan backed off.

The man rose on his own; his disposition completely opposite of what it had been before. Oh, now he couldn't do enough for them. He was still talking too fast for Ludwig to comprehend fully. He caught words like 'on the house', 'my pleasure', 'gracious customer' interspersed with praises to the Almighty. While the man continued to talk, he looked back across the table where Ivan was sitting placidly. Every once and a while he would interject and become quite animated in his speech to the chef. Then they would both laugh. Like that whole steak knife incident had never happened.

One by one, the other restaurant patrons slowly went back to their meals; only glancing up every once and a while. As if to make sure the same incident weren't happening again. Or they had imagined the whole thing.

Then of course, there were the ones that were staring at Ludwig.

" Which dessert did you order, Ivan?"

Like he didn't know what his boyfriend was capable of.

" All of them!"

That something about Ivan was _not quite right_.

" ...all of them?"

Well Ludwig wasn't stupid.

" It was the least he could do after all that, da?"

He _knew_ he had saved a man's life tonight.

" ...Ja, I suppose."

He knew Ivan wasn't perfect.

" Nothing but the best for moya lyubov!"

But he loved him anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_Moya lyubov - _Russian. 'My love.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note****: **So...I wrote another thing.

In which Ivan Braginskij has a heart attack.

* * *

><p>His wall.<p>

Germany's. Kitchen. Wall.

What about it?

Well there was a problem with it.

Oh, it wasn't dirty or anything.

It was just that a Russian had driven his fist through it in a fit of rage during their argument.

As if that were not enough of a reason for Germany to be upset, that hole in the wall caused by the enraged Russian was uncomfortably close to his head. He'd been standing there, right in front of that wall, yelling back at Russia, when the older nation had turned around and swung. Germany had not moved; somewhere thinking that _surely_ Russia was not about to do what it looked like he was going to do. They were not _that_ couple. Domestic violence rates in Russia be damned, Germany would not be a battered _anything_.

Anyone else, everyone else would have been terrified of Russia with his hand plunged into the wall next to their head. The look on his face wasn't much better either. He was close enough that Germany could hear 'kol kol kol kol kol' emanating from the Russian and _that_ was just the last straw.

" Get out of my house."

Russia blinked. " ...Chto."

" I _said_, get out of my house. Remove your _arm,_" hands previously in oven mitts grabbed onto Ivan's arm and roughly pulled it from his damaged wall, " from my wall. Run, don't walk, out of my kitchen and don't let the door hit you on the way out. _Get out of my house_."

Ludwig couldn't recall ever speaking like this to Ivan before. But then again, this particular situation had never come up before either. His rage had frozen over inside him before coming out as sharp and cold as an icicle. Hopefully as jagged as his words hit him.

They appeared to have the desired effect, as Ivan stood there rather dumbfounded for a moment. Then his anger came back full force. For a moment, Ludwig thought he would swing again. But instead of preparing himself for the blow, he defiantly folded his arms. " _Aus._"

Russia sneered, then turned his back on him to leave and put this house, this kitchen and that German _far_ behind him. " The next time I enter this house, it will not be to spare you, Germaniya."

Germany snorted and turned his back to the departing Russian. Let him have the last word, as long as he was gone. He still had things he had to do. Like wash dishes. Put away the steak dinner for two he was making. Walk his dogs. Clean up after his brother. See about repairing the hole in the wall and so many other things that had absolutely nothing to do with Ivan Braginskij and missing him.

He'd just finished making this mental list and drying off a plate when he turned around to decide whether or not to mop his floor. What he saw made him frown. There were little red spots throughout his kitchen. Like a little trail leading from there to the foyer. It looked like blood. A thrill of danger rushed through his stomach, and Ludwig immediately checked himself over. No, no wounds. Russia hadn't hurt him. Did he drop a steak on the ground on his way in? But Ivan would have brought that to his attention. So then where the hell was this blood coming from?

Ludwig followed the trail almost to the living room, and what he found there caused his hands to release the plate he'd been holding. It shattered to the ground, but it didn't matter. It didn't reach his ears. Nothing else in the world mattered because Gott in Himmel there was a human heart squishing and pumping and squirting on his carpet.

Germany didn't think, didn't know how to react, didn't breathe. All his body could do was fall backwards and let out a horrified shout. " AAHH! RUSSLAND!"

He didn't even know what he was screaming. Just that he was screaming and panicking and why was there a beating heart on his floor and where the hell did it come from and why was this happening please Gott don't let it be Gilbert's oh Gott I'm gonna be sick, sick, sick-

**CRASH!**

Wood exploded from his left, and this time Ludwig had sense enough to raise his arm to shield himself. When he lowered it, there was a ferocious looking Russia right in front of him. " Russ...Russland..."

The older nation stood at his full intimidating height between him and whatever threat he thought was in the German's living room. Yet, there was no one in there. Maybe they had gotten away in the time it had taken him to run back down the street and break the door down. " What is it, Germaniya? Who has invaded you?"

" I—there's—I can't—blood—!" After that eloquent speech, all he could do was point to where the heart was now beating furiously; making even more of a mess on his once-beige carpet. " Heart!"

" Heart...?" Russia blinked, then looked where the German was pointing. As soon as he saw it, his shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes with a sigh. " Is _that _all? You scared years off my life screaming like that, Ludwig. Never do such a thing again unless you are actually under attack or you _will be_ when I get my hands on you."

It must have been the Russian's tone that snapped some sense and anger back into Germany. " What do you mean 'is that all'?! There's a human **heart** in the middle of my living room without a _human_ for it to go in! How are you so calm about this?! You can't tell me this happens all the time in Russia!"

" You are so excitable sometimes, Germaniya..." Russia dropped his arms and turned to face him. " Of _course_ it happens all the time," one of his hands pointed to the gaping hole in his chest. " That is _my _heart."

Ivan realized entirely too late that perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say, or show Ludwig at the time. Because the German let out another cry of distress and his nerves promptly gave out.

* * *

><p>Ludwig awoke to the feeling of cold on his cheek and forehead.<p>

At first he thought Russia was trying to wake him up for sex. It seemed to amuse the Russian to go outside in the morning when it was cold, doing God knows what in his wooded property, then come back and expend the rest of his energy on his German boyfriend. So Germany did what he always did, bat away the coldness on his skin and roll over. " Nein Ivan...is too early."

There was chuckling somewhere above and to his right. " Silly German. It is not morning and I have not been hunting. Open your eyes."

" Nng..." When Germany opened his eyes as he was told, there was the amused visage of Russia. And just a little bit lower, was the still gaping hole in his chest.

It must have shown on his face that he was about to freak out again, because Ivan quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. " _Nyet._ No more yelling, Germaniya. You have a very powerful voice and I do not enjoy this type of screaming from you. You must calm down."

Ludwig made muffled noise and pressed both his hands to the bloody hole in an attempt to keep pressure on his 'wound.'

Ivan looked down, then sighed and looked up with a little smile on his face. " You truly are a silly German, trying to care for me in this way. It is quite cute. But I assure you, Germaniya, it is not as bad as you think. My life is in no danger, lyubov. I am still here talking to you, da? I have not fainted, like you, or fallen over in convulsions and the like. Look," he gestured with his free hand to where his heart was resting on a bed of washcloths on the coffee table. " It still beats. It just fell out."

Ludwig looked up at him, then where his hands rested. One hand removed itself, then the other.

" If I take my hand away, and you scream another time, I'm going to knock you right back out, da?"

Germany nodded. The hand fell away and he sat up quietly. He kept looking between Ivan's chest and the heart beating steadily on his table. Hesitantly, his fingers flexed, then reached out to gently poke the muscle.

" AAH!" Russia clutched at his chest and fell over; writhing on the floor in agony.

" Oh mein Gott, Russland!" Ludwig dropped from the couch to come to the Russian's side immediately. But he had absolutely no idea what to do that could help. Other than panic. " Es tut mir led! Bist du okay?!" Ivan rolled away from his hands, onto his side and began to tremble. Ludwig feared the worst, until he recognized the sound he was making. _Laughter_. This was probably the second most angry he'd ever been in his life. " BASTARD! BASTARD RUSSIAN! I'LL _KILL_ YOU!"

Russia continued to laugh. Even as Germany tried to make good on his threat using a couch cushion. " I am not sorry! Your face—You should have seen your face!" He raised his arms to shield himself from the blows. " _That _is for scaring me!"

Ludwig scowled and hit him one more good hard time. Then sat back on his rear and held his face in his hands. " Gott...You make my nerves bad."

" You make my hair gray."

" It was that color when I met you and you know it." Sighing, the German let his hands slide down and looked to the table. There Russia's heart continued to beat undisturbed. As if it was sitting safely in his ribcage. " Ivan..."

No longer under attack, Russia laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at him curiously. " Da?"

" Why does your heart fall out of your chest, Ivan?"

Violet eyes went to the ceiling, then and the Russian sighed. " I'm not altogether sure, Germaniya. Sometimes it happens when I am sad, sometimes I am upset. Sometimes extremely happy. Sometimes for no reason at all. It just...," Ivan made a 'pop' sound and shrugged, " pops out."

Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, then shifted to get closer to the table. With oh-so-careful hands, he scooped up the beating heart resting on the towels. Still moving slowly, he came over to put it back where it belonged. It fell in with a wet noise that he tried not to let disgust him. Both hands went back to pressing down over the open area with the towel. As if that would keep the organ from rebelling and falling back out.

Russia watched him do this placidly. The care and caution with which Germany replaced his heart had it swelling up once it was back in his chest. So much so, he thought if not for the gentle pressure from Ludwig's hands it might just pop right back out again. " Germaniya..."

" Just...let me do this, ja?" He didn't take his eyes off his chest.

" Mm." Cloud cover settled over the Russian's face. " ...You threw me out."

Thankfully, Germany was not afraid of Russian weather. " You put a hole in my wall with your fist."

" Why did you call out for me when you were afraid?"

" Why did you break down my door when I did?"

Ivan grunted in annoyance. But still pulled the younger nation down into his arms. " Your mouth is more useful to me around my dick, not smarting off."

" Auch, stop saying such things." Ludwig went willingly, but still kept a hand resting over the compress on his chest. Even as his face turned scarlet, he managed to keep from stuttering. " Well, you won't have to worry about _that_ for a long time."

" Chto?"

" ..._That_ is for scaring _me._"

" … _Chert poberi._"

* * *

><p><span>German<span>

Bist du okay - Are you okay?

Aus - Out.

Russian

Chto - What?

Chert poberi - Dammit/God dammit.


End file.
